


Bite Down (I've Been Waiting Here For You)

by Patchwork_Author



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon, Sexual Tension, dinah is horny but patient, dinah is trying very hard to get in Helena's pants guys, have some softness too, helena is horny but clueless, it was supposed to just be hot but it got soft so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patchwork_Author/pseuds/Patchwork_Author
Summary: Dinah is going to get into Helena's pants if it kills her and at the rate it's going...well, it just might.AKA nearly 6,000 words of Dinah flirting with Helena, and Helena being a useless lesbian. Featuring all the hits like: "Helena gets stabbed and Dinah takes care of her", "things get hot in the middle of fighting bad guys" and "Helena is a pool shark and Dinah uses it to flirt"
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Comments: 23
Kudos: 452





	Bite Down (I've Been Waiting Here For You)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Write what you wanna read, amiright? I love these two and I love all of the fics of them but when there's not enough, you gotta start producing your own work! I hope you enjoy. Also, I love how this fandom has collectively decided that Helena is a pool shark. I concur.

It took Dinah about two minutes to decide she wanted to climb Helena Bertenelli like a goddamn tree. Two minutes, give or take. The execution, however…yeah, that’s a bit slow.

Dinah looks at Helena in all of her violent-badass-wrapped-around-an-awkward-dork, nearly-six-feet-tall, guns-and-abs-of-steel glory and god, she wants to fuck her senseless.

But the rest of Dinah knows to wait. Even wants to wait. She gets it. She gets that Helena’s probably had the most fucked-up childhood out of all of them, not that it’s a competition, and that socialization and social cues and life stuff…it’s all hard for her. Dinah isn’t going to rush her, or push her, or scare her. She wants Helena to want her back. She wants Helena to _trust_ her.

This is the constant push-and-pull inside of Dinah: one half that is about ready to rip Helena’s clothes off at any minute, and the other half that wants to take _care_ of Helena.

So she decided to tease. To flirt. She won’t push too hard, just enough to let Helena know she’s interested, just enough to toe the line.

Just enough to relieve some of the tension coursing through her.

:::

Dinah quickly realizes she may have underestimated just how bad at this Helena is. No judgement or anything.

But Dinah has been dropping hints the sizes of anvils – we’re talking real Looney Tunes style anvils up in here – and she’s getting…nothing. Fucking _nothing_.

She asked Helena to teach her how to use the crossbow. They were all pressed against each other, her back against Helena’s chest, Helena’s fingers wrapped around their own. Helena had been so focused on the task at hand, she might as well have been made of stone. That is until Dinah presses herself against Helena more, feels Helena’s breath in her ear and…she realizes that Helena’s heart is _hammering_ against her chest.

That’s the day she realizes it. That Helena is somehow both touch-starved and touch-averse at the same time. She winces when Harley hugs her (fair, in Dinah’s opinion), but even when Cass does it, when Montoya claps her on the shoulder. And yet she doesn’t seem afraid, in fact her eyes look almost wistful.

For some reason, she lets Dinah touch her. _She_ touches _Dinah_. Even if it’s just to teach her how to shoot a crossbow.

It doesn’t get Dinah laid, but it teaches her more about Helena and she figures she’ll take it. For now.

:::

They all live together, her and Renee and Helena. ‘Live together’ is a little generous, considering it’s some old warehouse that Helena bought and paid to have converted into their headquarters. The living spaces were a bit of an afterthought, but Helena started crashing there, and Renee didn’t always like dragging her ass across town to go home, and Dinah crashed a couple nights, and then they just…never really left.

So they had real, actual bedrooms put in. And bathrooms. And a kitchen and shit.

When she says ‘they’, she means Helena.

Anyway, the place is big enough that they don’t feel like roommates so much as neighbors.

Except…

Except for the fact it _is_ only one building, and they do share most of the space, and it is headquarters, and they’re fucking vigilantes, which means that Dinah walks in on Helena working out too much for her own sanity.

Dinah walks out of her bedroom, down the stairs and is almost to the kitchen when she sees it. Helena is doing pull ups on the bar she’d had installed on the entrance to the workout room.

From where’s standing, Dinah can see the planes of Helena’s back, the way the muscles clench and ripple as she moves.

Dinah’s mouth dries up at the sight.

It’s like Helena doesn’t even _know_. Hell, she probably doesn’t.

“Mornin’,” Dinah calls as she slips into the kitchen.

She hears a small, surprised grunt and she laughs to herself as she pours her coffee. For someone who is constantly aware of her surroundings, Helena sometimes is too easy for Dinah to throw off.

Only ever at home. Not in the field. How can Helena be so deadly one place, and so hapless in the other?

Dinah turns around to leave and nearly bumps right into her.

This, she thinks, is almost worse. This is objectively unfair.

Helena is towering over her, toweling off her sweat, and Dinah’s eyes drag down from her glistening face, past her collarbones, to the abs that are prominently on display.

“Christ,” Dinah breathes out, trying to ignore the heat coiling low in her.

“What?”

Dinah gestures vaguely at Helena. “You ever take a break?”

Helena’s brows knit together. “I have to be in top form.”

Yeah, she figures she should’ve guessed that would be the answer to that question. Dinah sighs, blowing on her coffee. “Honey, you really don’t have to worry about your form.”

Helena looks more confused, for half a second, and Dinah thinks she’s going to lose it. Helena isn’t allowed to be this hot and this clueless. It’s going to make Dinah combust.

“I…it helps me relax. The practice,” Helena says, softer now. “It’s like meditation.”

Dinah softens at that. God, she’s a dork half the time and a killer the rest, but she’s also starting to be _gentle_ , at certain moments, and that…that’s something else.

“Violent meditation,” she adds, with the smallest hint of a grin, and Dinah can’t help the laugh that bursts out of her.

The joke isn’t particularly funny. But _Helena_ just joked and _that_ is enough to make Dinah laugh harder than she really should.

:::

They ride to their missions together on Helena’s bike, once she got a new one. Dinah rides behind, squeezing her legs against Helena, wrapping her arms around her waist. If her thumb trails over the exposed skin of Helena’s abs, well, fuck, she thinks that’s only human nature.

“I, uh. Sorry if it’s tight,” Helena says.

“I don’t mind having you between my legs,” Dinah replies easily, and it’s hard to miss the choking sound that Helena makes. She at least got a _reaction_ this time.

::: 

Dinah is _furious_. Helena is sitting on the table, bleeding from her abdomen, wincing as Dinah does her best to disinfect, sew, and patch her up, and Dinah is…god she’s a hell of a lot of things. Furious, yes. Furious at Helena for putting herself in (greater) danger, for saying ‘hey, I got a free knife’ before nearly collapsing. She’s furious at herself for not stopping the attack, for not being better at this, for being distracted by Helena’s abs of all things right now.

She is furious and she is scared and she’s _annoyed_ , and worried, and tender and all of these things at once but she can’t be all of these things because she’s the one with the goddamn sutures in her hands, covered in Helena’s blood, trying not to shake.

She’s done this before. She’s done this dozens of times. On her mom, on herself, on Renee and fucking Harley and, yes, even on Helena before. But it was one thing to dig a bullet out of Helena’s shoulder knowing that she’d be fine, that it was just another scar, that it would hurt, yes, but if they disinfected it, Helena would live. They bantered, she flirted, Helena blushed, end of story. It was all gentle touches and lots of eye contact and Dinah had taken her time bandaging Helena up, living for the way she left goosebumps on Helena’s skin.

This is different. Yes, Helena is going to live. It’s just _so much_ blood. It’s so much, and she was so wobbly and they almost lost her and Dinah really, really cannot think about that right now.

Helena hisses in pain and Dinah tries not to wince. _Fuck_.

“Sorry, H,” she says. “Do you want me to get Renee or Harley to do this?”

Helena shakes her head, closes her eyes, slumps back against the wall. “No. You. Always. Just want you.”

And god, that isn’t the way Dinah hoped to hear those words, not even close, but it does something different. It doesn’t made arousal shoot through her, doesn’t get her hot, but it melts her, makes her feel soft.

“Okay, honey, just me,” Dinah repeats.

She finishes the sutures, and Helena is woozy but awake when she’s done. Harley comes skipping into the kitchen, handing her a lollipop. Lemon flavored.

“Cause you’ve been such a good patient!” she says. “I woulda got you purple, but everyone knows grape tastes like shit.”

Helena only grunts in response, but takes the offered candy, sticking it into her mouth, and Dinah, hands still covered in Helena’s own fucking blood, can’t stop staring at the way Helena’s lips wrap around it.

“Come on, Killer,” Dinah says, helping Helena off the table. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Helena leans on her, and Dinah helps her all the way up the stairs, making sure to take the lollipop from her mouth before she gets Helena into bed, because god forbid the world’s greatest assassin should die choking on a piece of candy in her sleep.

Before Dinah can go to bed, she washes her own hands, and even if might mess with her sleep, she slaps another nicotine patch on her arm. She doesn’t exactly trust her will power or self control right now.

She just focuses on the fact that Helena is okay.

:::

Helena is a fucking horrible patient. She takes pain well, sure, but like. The woman will _not sit still_.

“In case you forgot,” Renee is currently lecturing Helena, “you got a knife in your abdomen. You need to rest. You need to heal.”

“There are criminals crawling all over this city,” Helena says. “If I’m down, they’re out there doing whatever the hell they want.”

“And if you leave now, in this shape, you’re not gonna stop them, you’re gonna get yourself killed, and then Dinah and I will be a person down and it’ll be that much harder to stop them next time,” Renee says, throwing her hands in the air.

Helena looks at Dinah, like she wants her to take her side, to agree with her, but Dinah just shakes her head.

“Sorry, Killer, but she’s right. If you sit still now, you’ll be back on your feet sooner.”

Helena crosses her arm, practically pouts, and _oh,_ Dinah wants to kiss the pout off of her lips. Renee snorts at the scene and leaves to go drink in her room or something. Dinah sits on the couch next to Helena.

“You wouldn’t want to lay low,” Helena practically growls, “if you were the injured one.”

Dinah rolls her eyes affectionately, and feels the heat flicker in her at the tone of Helena’s voice.

“Probably not, but I’m not injured,” she points out. “When I’m the one with the knife in my abdomen, you can tell me you told me so.”

Helena starts at that, her pout vanishing. She opens and closes her mouth a few times. “I don’t…want that,” she says. “You can’t get hurt like that.”

“Yeah, well, it happens to all of us,” Dinah says. She gets a little quieter, then. “You gave us a real scare there, H.”

Helena is staring at her. “Oh. I’m, uh. I’m sorry.”

“You dumbass,” Dinah laughs. “You don’t apologize for getting hurt. Just make sure you get better. For me.”

“For you,” Helena nods, and she’s staring so hard, there’s no way she’s missing the way Dinah’s gaze flickers down to her mouth, right?

“At least you’ll get a sexy new scar out of it,” Dinah says, dropping her hand so that it settles not on Helena’s wound (obviously), but on the bare skin next to it, feeling the way Helena’s muscles jump under her hand.

Helena’s gaze snaps up to hers and fuck, her eyes are even darker than normal. This is it, Dinah thinks. Thank fuck, she’s finally going to–

The door slams open followed quickly by someone singing “ _Oh Crossbow!_ ” and Dinah and Helena yank apart as Harley rollerskates into their warehouse, Cass running behind her, both carrying bags full of god-knows-what. Who the hell knows what Harley Quinn thinks makes for a good recovery?

As Harley and Cass begin to explain the curative properties of sugary cereals, soda and shitty Italian takeout that probably kills Helena on the inside, Dinah catches it.

Helena’s hand resting on her abdomen. Not where she was stabbed. Where Dinah’s hand had been just a moment before.

:::

Dinah is put on babysitting duty. Oh, not of Cass. Cass is around occasionally, but no. She’s put on babysitting duty making sure that _Helena_ doesn’t over-exert herself while she healed.

Which would be fine except that she can’t exactly fuck Helena till Tuesday while she’s in recovery, and she can’t make a move of any fucking kind when Renee seems to have a sixth-sense of popping up whenever Dinah starts to lay it on thick.

And if it’s not Renee, it’s Harley or Cass.

She’s starting to think that sharing her living space, and having an open-door policy, isn’t good for her sex life.

She decides to, temporarily, just let it go.

When they’re closer to the tail-end of Helena needing to just like, chill the fuck out for a little bit, Dinah relaxes a little bit, leaves Helena to her own devices for a little bit.

That, of course, bites her in the ass when she gets home from running errands (superhero clothes are dry clean only!) and Helena is not in the living room where she left her.

“Fuck!”

At least…it seems to bite her in the ass.

Helena isn’t in the gym, or the weapons room. She’s…in the kitchen. Slicing garlic. Very, very thinly.

“What are you doing?” Dinah asks, eyeing her warily. Helena doesn’t even startle.

She does look a little confused. She gestures to the very obvious pot of water on the stove, the vegetables, the cutting board, the garlic.

“Uh…cooking?”

"You do that?”

Helena shrugs. “Even to assassins, in Italy…food matters.”

“Huh.” Dinah never considered that.

“Here,” Helena says, handing Dinah a bottle and a glass. “I found wine.”

Dinah doesn’t exactly need to told twice. She hops up on the counter and sits there, watching Helena cook while Dinah sips her wine. It nice. It’s wonderful, actually. And it’s easy.

Until Helena starts absently mumbling the recipe or something to herself…in Sicilian.

Dinah’s breath hitches in her throat at the sounds coming from Helena’s mouth, the way the vowels sound coming from her lips, the rhythm of the language, the lowness of her voice…she squeezes her thighs together where she’s sitting.

She is not going to get turned on listening to Helena recite a recipe on how to make pasta. She _won’t_.

Helena turns to plate the pasta and hesitates.

“What’s wrong?” Dinah asks into her wine glass.

“Cass and Harley were here this morning.”

Dinah isn’t following. “So?”

“There’s only…one clean bowl left,” Helena says as she digs around.

God, she looks so serious, you’d think it was an antique piece of china instead of just, yknow, a bowl from ikea.

It’s cute.

“Oh my god, H,” Dinah laughs. “It’s fine. Grab two forks. We’ll share.”

Helena does as told, and finishes the pasta, putting it in the last clean bowl, and then she walks over to where Dinah is sitting. She stands a good foot away, two forks in one hand and the bowl in the other.

“Relax, I won’t bite,” Dinah says. “Unless you ask.” She hooks a foot around Helena’s legs, making her stumble closer to that Dinah can actually, you know, reach the bowl.

They stand like that, Helena holding the bowl between them, their legs brushing as they eat. Helena is eyeing her worriedly and so Dinah decides to put her out of her misery.

“It’s good,” she says, because it is. “I mean, it’s like…really good, what the hell, H? You’ve been holding out on us.”

“We don’t usually have fresh vegetables. Or time to make fresh pasta,” Helena says.

That’s fair. “What is this, anyway?” Dinah asks.

“Pasta Alla Norma.”

“Pasta alla Norma,” Dinah repeats, and she sits back on her hands, watches Helena watch her for a moment. There’s an innuendo, there. A button she could push, she thinks. She decides to spare Helena, for once. “We should cook more. I’m shit in the kitchen, but if you’re teaching, well, maybe I’ll actually pay attention.”

Helena swallows, but she nods. “I can–” her voice is pitchy and she coughs, trying again. She shrugs, casually. God, she’s fucking cute. “I can do that.”

Dinah grins and it’s probably a good thing she chose not to try and make a move again, because Renee chooses that moment to barge into the kitchen, ranting about Ellen. As she does, Helena steps closer to Dinah to let her pass, catches her gaze so they can both roll their eyes.

:::

Helena is back in the field as soon as she’s able to, to exactly no one’s surprise. There’s a drug deal down by Gotham’s shipping docks (seriously, why the fuck do half of Gotham’s criminals do their work by the shipping docks?). Busting deals isn’t usually the kind of work the Birds do, but they’d gotten a tip off (from Harley) that these drugs were laced with some kind of fear toxin from one of Gotham’s newer scumbags.

It’s not that the mission isn’t important (it is), but it’s also nice that they can go into this fairly certain it’s going to go their way. They’ve done this a million times. Plus Helena is all pent-up frustration from her days stuck in the warehouse.

God help whatever lackey decides to step in her path today.

Dinah wouldn’t admit it out loud (without alcohol) but she kind of loves jobs like these. The ones that are helpful, important, but just a _little_ easy, so the three of them let a little loose and the fighting is more like a dance and yes, it’s still hard, but it’s also kind of _fun_.

What? Helena isn’t the only one with a little bit of a violent streak.

The three of them are all a bit of a mess in their daily lives, and they do dumb shit all the time but this? This, they’re good at it. They fight with each other in their periphery. It makes it easy for Dinah to axe-kick a man until he’s out cold and turn right around to punch the dude stumbling back from the shoulder throw that Helena just slammed into him with.

She doesn’t need to worry about the man behind her, because before he even gets into her space, Renee’s shot him in the back of his kneecap.

Renee wasn’t wrong. They’re kind of amazing.

The _pop-pop-pop_ of bullets echoes through the shipping warehouse and before Dinah knows it, she’s on her back on the floor, behind a crate, and Helena is on top of her, having just saved Dinah from a bullet in the arm or the head or who knows where.

“I got it!” Renee calls. “Stay down!”

And that–

Dinah looks up at Helena, who is looking out at the room, aiming her crossbow to try and take out who she can.

Their bodies are connected at like twelve different points, Helena straddling Dinah with her legs on either side of her thighs. Dinah can _feel_ the rise and fall of Helena’s chest and stomach with each breath she takes. 

Fighting always releases a lot of tension in Dinah, seeing Helena fight is always a little sexy but this just feels…god, she feels like she’s on fucking fire.

“I’m out!” Helena calls and she finally turns back around, eyes widening as she realizes where she is, how they are.

Now that Helena is _here_ and not occupied shooting people, they’re so close. Her face is right there. Helena moves on instinct. Dinah can tell before she even moves that she’s going to try to get up. Dinah fists one hand in Helena’s stupid windbreaker jacket, squeezes her thighs around Helena’s hips to keep her from moving.

“Don’t even think about it,” she’s trying to sound firm, but it just comes out breathy. “I’m not sewing you up again so soon.”

Helena swallows and, _fuck_ , Dinah can hear it. Can watch her throat bob and tremble. Their breathing is ragged and Dinah knows it’s only partially from the fighting.

It’s getting insane, how much she wants this woman. It’s taking everything in Dinah not to roll her hips up into Helena’s right now. She takes a deep breath, wets her lip, and watches the way Helena’s gaze follows her tongue.

“Dinah–”

“Hey, fighting’s been over a minute now!” Renee snaps, and she’s standing over them, and she’s got someone else’s blood streaked across her cheek. “You two gonna help me finish up here or grope each other?”

Helena is off of Dinah before Dinah can blink, but she helps her off of the floor and they get to work, Renee eyeing them warily.

:::

They go out to celebrate at a dive that’s close to the warehouse. Harley, who has a sixth sense for when the girls are hanging out, swings by too. They do shots and nurse beers and take turns having Helena kick their asses in pool.

Seriously, the woman is a pool shark.

Things Helena Bertinelli is good at: murder, fighting, knife-throwing, darts, carnival games, murder (again), pool, and making Dinah irrepressibly turned on. 

If she makes sure she bends over the table right in Helena’s view every time, well, that’s only payback.

“Jesus,” Renee says when it’s Harley’s turn to play Helena. “You’re like a cat in heat, Canary. Just fuck the poor girl.”

Dinah rolls her eyes, takes a sip of her beer. “Fuck you, Montoya, the hell you think I’ve been trying to do for months on end?”

Renee rolls her eyes. “This is what you get for getting hot for the world’s most socially-awkward badass chick.”

Dinah scowls, but it’s hard to stay angry on a night like this. They did a good job today, she’s got a pleasant buzz going, Helena looks so good and before she knows it, it’s her turn to play Helena again.

“Teach me,” Dinah pouts up at Helena, who laughs at her.

It’s the alcohol. Dinah’s shamelessness, Helena’s looseness. God bless tequila.

“Teach you pool?” Helena asks. Dinah nods. “It’s just angles.”

Dinah shakes her head, turning the cue in her hands. “No, the shots. Show me how you line it up.”

“Oh,” Helena said. “I, um…okay.”

Dinah lines up her shot as Helena tries to narrate the best way to do it. She purposefully keeps messing up how she’s holding the cue. What? Sue her.

“Just _show me_ ,” she whines.

Helena stares at her a minute, and then she nods, and then she’s on Dinah, standing right behind her, sliding her arm up next to hers, wrapping her fingers around Dinah’s, one hand on her hips for leverage.

Dinah presses her ass back against Helena and the heat in her belly _curls_ at the hitch in Helena’s breath.

Dinah has completely forgotten what they’re doing by the time she feels Helena guide her through the shot, hears the pool balls clack against each other. She doesn’t even look to see if they go in a pocket, any pocket. She stands up, turning around and leaning back against the pool table. She and Helena are pressed together.

It’s a shitty bar and the lighting is terrible, but even now she can see how dark Helena’s eyes are.

“My turn!” Harley sings, snaking a hand between the two of them to take the cue from Dinah. “Show me how to shoot, Crossbow.”

That snaps Dinah out of it. “ _No_.” And if her voice is a little pitchy, it’s not that she’s feeling territorial. Not at all.

Helena’s eyes haven’t left Dinah’s face this whole time. “Actually, I’m going to get another drink,” she says, pushing her cue into Harley’s hands as well. “Have Cass play.”

Harley mutters something about Cass not even being here, but it doesn’t matter, because Helena is walking away from her, and Dinah is quick to follow. Helena doesn’t stop at the bar. She doesn’t stop until she’s outside, actually, and Dinah follows her there, too.

“You good?” Dinah asks.

When Helena looks at her, she’s frazzled, but she doesn’t look overwhelmed. Her eyes are still dark, and they lock on Dinah like she’s the only person in the world. It makes her liquid.

“It was hot in there. And I’m a little tired of playing,” Helena says.

Dinah steps into her space, runs her fingertips up from Helena’s wrists, all the way to her shoulders. Somehow, Helena simultaneously relaxes and tenses into her touch.

“H?”

“I’ve never–” Helena breaks off with a shaky breath, finally takes her eyes off of Dinah’s face for one second, to flutter them closed. “I’ve never done this before. And you…fuck, Dinah, I don’t want to…I want to be good. Want you to feel _good_ –”

Fuck, Dinah is so far gone for this woman.

Dinah steps into her space, slides one of her hands up from Helena’s shoulder to her jaw, stroking her thumb there.

“Helena, baby,” she says, and lives for the way Helena’s eyes take on this hungry look, for the low growl at seems to happen at the back of Helena’s throat, “you _do_ make me feel good. God, you, don’t even know what you do to me.”

She leans forward, presses her lips to Helena’s cheek. To her jawline, to the underside of her jaw. She feels the sigh from Helena before she hears it.

She pulls back just enough to look at Helena, to make sure that was okay.

“Can we go home?” Helena asks hoarsely. Her hands find Dinah’s hips and Dinah feels a little bit pathetic – she’s wanted this for so long that just that has arousal coiling hotly in her.

She nods, raking a hand through her hair. “God, please,” she says.

Helena lets go of her hips then, much to Dinah’s chagrin, but that’s only so she can take her hand and lead her back to her bike. They ride home in silence, and the rumble under them is nothing compared to the simmering tension in Dinah’s own body. She splays her hands out over Helena’s abs as they go.

:::

The first thing she does when they got home, the very first thing, is to push Helena (gently!) so she’s sitting on the couch, Dinah straddling her lap, and kisses her. Properly.

The way she’s been aching to for months.

“Can I?” she asks first, letting her gaze hover unashamed over Helena’s mouth.

Helena stares up at her, and her gaze is so _wanting_ that it turns Dinah molten. “Please.”

Dinah swiftly puts them both out of their misery, pillowing Helena’s lips between her own. She sets a rhythm that’s slow and languid at first, until it’s not, and Dinah is sucking Helena’s tongue into her mouth, her hips are grinding forward at the sound Helena makes, at the slide of their tongues together.

Dinah pulls away when she needs air, trailing open-mouthed kisses down Helena’s neck instead, grinning against her skin when Helena’s head lolls back to give her better access.

“ _Dinah._ ”

She could, in theory, do this for a lot longer, just drink in Helena’s mouth and let her hands wander and see what kind of sounds she can pull out Helena, just like this. Just see how worked up she can get her.

It sounds delicious, but there’s so much more Dinah wants, so much more release she’s been dying for and she doesn’t really want to torture Helena tonight. She just wants. She just wants to–

“Let me take care of you,” she murmurs against Helena’s skin, moves to suck at her pulse point, feels Helena buck up under her. “Can I do that for you, honey?”

“Yes,” Helena gasps.

Dinah climbs off of Helena’s lap, then, and both of them whine a little at the loss of contact. Dinah reaches behind her for Helena’s hand, guides her up the stairs to her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them. And locking it.

She steps into Helena’s space again, kissing her again to stop the overthinking she knows Helena’s doing.

She slides her hands over the exposed skin of Helena’s back and abdomen, letting one hand roam higher while the other settles over Helena’s ass.

“You’re so hot,” she breathes into Helena’s mouth. She slides her hand high under Helena’s shirt, pulling the fabric with her, letting them part just enough to get it over Helena’s head, dropping it haphazardly onto the floor. Helena isn’t wearing a bra, and the sight of her chest heaving is…fuck. It’s something else. “Do you know how hot you are?”

Helena groans, shakes her head, and Dinah backs them up against the bed. Dinah considers just pushing Helena down onto the bed – doesn’t honestly think Helena would mind – but she meant what she said. She wants to take care of Helena tonight.

She keeps pushing Helena forward, keeps kissing her, until they’re both down on the bed. Dinah straddles her hips again, and moans when Helena’s hands slide down to settle on her ass. She has good instincts.

Dinah tells her as much.

She breaks off their last kiss to sit up, right over Helena, and peel off her shirt, watching Helena stare as she does.

Helena licks her lips. “Can I…?” she asks. Dinah nods, and in instant, Helena’s hands are on her, all over her – warm and calloused and curious.

“ _Baby_ ,” Dinah breathes out, when Helena’s hands slide up into her bra, pinching a nipple.

“I think about touching you,” Helena rasps out. “All the time. You have no fucking idea.”

Dinah laughs, leans down over Helena to kiss up her neck, “I think I have some idea.”

It still fills her with a little bit of thrill – that Helena wants her as much as Dinah wants her. Helena is _hers_ to take. Dinah isn’t often possessive, but god, if that isn’t hot.

She reaches between the two of them while she works on leaving a nice mark on Helena’s neck, and she deftly undoes Helena’s pants at the same time. She taps Helena’s hips and they lift off the bed enough for Dinah to slide her pants down her legs.

Dinah pulls back again, staring down at Helena like this – under her, eyes dark and hooded, cheeks and chest flushed, wearing only her underwear.

Dinah can’t help it. She grinds down into Helena’s hips, which earns her a sharp gasp.

She could just grind them both to orgasm, she knows, and maybe later, she will. But she has Helena laid out beneath her and she wants to _touch_. She wants to _feel_ Helena. 

Dinah kisses her again, and it’s a little needy, a little dirty, she lets her hands wander as she goes, slipping under Helena’s boxers, sliding through her. They moan in unison – Dinah at the wetness she finds, Helena, presumably, at the contact.

She takes her time. Explores Helena’s neck and jaw and collarbones with her mouth while she lazily circles Helena’s clit, teases her _just_ a little bit. Then she slides two fingers into Helena carefully, and Helena nearly surges right off of the bed.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Dinah asks from where she’s been leaving wet kisses up and down Helena’s sternum.

“ _Yes,_ ” Helena chokes out. Dinah removes her fingers just long enough to get Helena’s boxers off all the way, and then she gets right back where she was, curling two fingers determinedly while she kisses up Helena’s chest until their mouths are meeting again.

Helena feels _so good_ around her. And the _sounds_ that Dinah is getting…it’s a heady feeling, and she’s feeling a little giddy and a lot horny and stupid but she likes it.

Helena’s breathing gets shallow, her hips rock down erratically, and Dinah can feel her clenching.

“Come on, baby,” she says against her jaw, flicks her tongue out, “I wanna make you feel good. Don’t you wanna feel good?”

The response she gets from Helena is nothing short of incoherent, but she hears a few fucks, maybe something in Sicilian, and her name and Dinah feels _herself_ clench at the sound.

“ _Fuck_. I’m–”

Dinah knows. She can’t help the smile that spreads across her face and she slips her tongue back into Helena’s mouth as she works her through each wave of her orgasm, Helena’s nails sliding down her back.

They’re lying on the bed, slick and hot, Helena is panting, her eyes blown wide, and she looks, somehow, more beautiful than normal. Dinah waits a minute before pulling her fingers out, admiring the shine there. Dinah lifts her hands to her lips but before she can clean herself, Helena curls her hand around Dinah’s wrist, wraps her lips around Dinah’s fingers, and _holy shit_. Dinah is moaning before she can help it.

And then, the next thing she knows, she’s on her back, Helena hovering above her, eyes dark, lips wet, looking thoroughly fucked.

“I wanna return the favor,” she says hoarsely. “Is that…okay?”

Dinah slides one hand up into Helena’s hair, locks their gazes. “You can have whatever you want,” she says, and trembles with anticipation as Helena leans down and starts to explore Dinah’s body with her mouth.

:::

It’s hours later. She’s sure Renee is home, passed out in her own room at the other end of the warehouse. Harley may or may not be here. Dinah can’t find it in herself to give a fuck. She and Helena stayed up, trading orgasms and kisses like it was their job, and she’s exhausted but happy and she keeps drifting in and out of sleep.

Helena is next to her, curled around her, equally spent.

“You can sleep,” Helena says. “You should sleep.”

Dinah laughs. “Speak for yourself, H.”

“I, um,” Helena’s arms tighten around her, just for a second. “I have a question.”

“Mmm?”

“Can we do this again sometime?”

Dinah is exhausted but she rolls over, feels what’s going to be a deep ache in her legs tomorrow that she already kind of loves, looks up into Helena’s eyes.

“I have been waiting to do that for months, and you think I’m just gonna let you go?” she asks with a smirk. She gets serious for a second, because she knows Helena’s insecurities, she knows how _new_ this all is for her. “I’m not going to take anything that you’re not willing to give me, but…babe, I’ve known from day one you were my kinda girl.”

“Oh,” Helena says. Dinah can see her thinking.

“That okay?"

Helena smiles at her, the smile that only Dinah can pull out of her. “I suppose it’s not the worst arrangement,” she says, dropping a kiss onto Dinah’s shoulder.

Dinah whacks her arm weakly. “Helena Bertinelli, you choose _now_ of all times to learn sarcasm?”

:::

Life goes back to normal. They do their work, they take care of Cass when Harley drops her off, they deal with Harley when Harley drops _herself_ off, and Gotham continues to be all kinds of horrible.

It’s just now, when Dinah walks in on Helena in the middle of her workout, she spots the fading hickeys she proudly gave her. Now, Dinah gets to drag Helena upstairs the minute she’s done for one last workout before cooldown.

Helena was right. It’s certainly not the worst arrangement.


End file.
